Across the Water
by Tirya King
Summary: The war is accelerating at a faster rate than ever and not only the wizarding world is caught up in it. The Dursleys are stranded in a world they have never known and their only guide is the boy they’ve despised for as long as he can remember.
1. No Time

Title: Across the Water

Author: Tirya King

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Category: General/Action/Adventure

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Makes me write that much faster!

Archive: Just tell me where it's going and it's yours!

Summary: The war is accelerating at a faster rate than ever and not only the wizarding world is caught up in it. The Dursleys are stranded in a world they have never known and their only guide is the boy they've despised for as long as he can remember.

Disclaimer: The good news is that I received notification that I became the new owner of HP. The bad news is that I received this notification on April Fools Day.

A/N: This is not a part of my 'Say Goodnight' series so you don't need to have read anything else of mine. I will be bringing little moments from 'Separate and Superior' into play later, but I'll explain it all, so don't worry about reading that either.

Across the Water

Part One: No Time

The day was thick and heavy with the midsummer air. One could practically swim through the moist air that offered no breeze in respite. The sun was hidden behind thick angry clouds, but it only served to create a mini-greenhouse effect around the neighborhood. Perhaps it would rain later from all the humidity. One could only hope.

Most of the inhabitants of Privet Drive were indoors, thankful for their air conditioners and fans. It would be madness to wander outside on this lazy Sunday afternoon. They only ventured out if they had to.

This was precisely the reason for one such boy to be making his way down the lonely road. If the unbearable heat wasn't reason enough to stay indoors, the boy provided another one. Word was that he was a troublemaker and not a little unhinged. He went to a special school for the incurably criminal. So during the summer holidays, parents had to make sure to keep their good, wholesome children away and safe.

Harry didn't mind at all that he was so badly reputed. Their opinions of him mattered very little and had for quite some time. In fact, he tended to enjoy his solitude over the summer break. Even now, as he shuffled down the road to the park, he was thankful that the untrusting neighbors purposely avoided him. It wasn't that he was naturally a loner, but the people he most wanted to see were not available to him. He preferred loneliness to the only remaining company.

In his hand was a thin sheet of parchment. He clutched it fiercely as though it would disappear any moment. And he couldn't lose it. Not now.

One year ago, he had gone to this very park filled with a nervous tension that threatened to tear him apart. A year ago, the news had been annoyingly quiet about any hints of foul play. A year ago, he was plagued with one death at his fault instead of two. A year ago, he had had a future.

Now every day was filled with some sort of disappearance in the papers. Or a mysterious explosion that no one could explain. Yet the worst was yet to come and now it was only a matter of time before it happened. The Dark Lord was still using some caution around the Muggles. But it wouldn't be long now before he was at full strength and began attacking directly in full daylight. It would be coming any day now.

He slumped down into the swing like a man awaiting an executioner. What he wouldn't give to be back to the nervous tension of a year ago. The knowledge that while things were anything from ideal, at least people were still safe. That the people he cared about were going to be alright.

He looked down at the parchment he had been holding. For what seemed like the millionth time since receiving it, he read its contents. He must have known that letter backwards and forwards, yet he still hoped that while he wasn't looking it would have changed somehow.

Remus had kept in close contact with him over the weeks following the battle at the Department of Mysteries. The others had owled him nearly as much, but he didn't wait for their letters as avidly as he waited for the werewolf's. Remus' words were the most comforting to him during the worst of his grief over Sirius' death. It could have been that Remus too had lost a dear friend and knew what would and wouldn't help. Or it could have been that he was so good at reading people that he did not need to waste ink on useless words. Whatever the reason, Remus did not fill his letters with coddling words of reassurance. Nor did he pretend to know what Harry must have been thinking as he lay in bed sobbing. He offered only himself and a willing outlet for anything the boy might need to release.

At first, Harry treated the werewolf's offer like the others'. He would not open up to him, he would not answer his letters. How could he possibly understand the depth of his sorrow? But gradually, his mentor's patience won out and he found himself talking more and more about what he was going through. In the process, he felt that he was also helping to alleviate the man's grief for a lost brother. Through the weeks, Harry and Remus formed a new bond forged by mutual pain.

But the war would not wait for those who had loved Sirius to grieve. Things needed to be done and Dumbledore could no longer tread lightly next to Remus and Harry. The Order came first. Everyone understood this. A death must not hinder it in any way. So the werewolf was finally sent on a mission, one that remained a secret even to Harry who was his closest confidant. All he said was that it might help to be distracted by work and that he shouldn't be more than a few days.

That was two weeks ago.

He had not heard from the werewolf since that last letter. What if something happened to him? What if he was hurt? Or dead? Remus could be breathing his last at this moment and he had no way of knowing. The rest of the Order would not answer any of his questions pertaining to the mission and his friends knew nothing to tell him. And even those helpless letters all stopped arriving three days ago. There was something going on in the wizarding world, something big, and he was as clueless as ever. It frustrated him to no end.

His aunt and uncle allowed the frequent owl mail only because they were afraid of what the Order would do if they didn't. They also feared the dangerous convict of a godfather that may turn them all into toads if they did anything to upset his precious godson. Harry had not updated them of certain recent events mainly because he did not want to relive such a horrific event in front of people who couldn't care less. He also liked the protection the mere memory of Sirius offered him, even if it was against a family who believed said convict to be both deranged and alive.

A loud rumble came from overhead. Maybe it would rain after all, and relieve the endless bout of moist heat. Harry hoped it would. A cooler temperature could go a long way in relieving worried minds. But either way, until he received word on what was going on, there would be little sleep for him. Already, the effects of no sleep were beginning to show. He had a shorter temper and had little energy to eat or do much more besides his chores.

The rumble was louder now and a bright red flash danced across the sky. He jerked from his swing at that. Last he checked, lighting wasn't red. What was going on?

Down the road he could hear voices calling his name. His first instinct was to run away. The past year had taught him much about running straight into potential danger. A lesson that had been learned the hard way.

"Harry! Where are you?" The voice sounded almost desperate now. He recognized the voice as belonging to Tonks, but he was still hesitant to go to her.

Then Arthur's voice came, as did Moody's and Mrs. Figg's. He decided to at least go check it out. No one had notified him that they were coming, but then, no one had been telling him much of anything lately. When he arrived to the house, he found most of the Order, minus Remus, out in the lawn. They were all in their wizard robes with their wands out in plain sight.

The large red flash came again with a rumble of what sounded like very loud thunder. The Order jumped at the sound and Arthur's face looked afraid. Tonks turned to him, her scarlet robes flowing around her. She clutched her wand tightly. "You don't think he…"

"No," said Kingsley Shacklebolt. "They wouldn't keep coming if they had him."

"Had who?" Harry asked as he approached. He had decided they were who they appeared to be. Their mannerisms and ways of talking were too natural to be fake.

At the sound of his voice, all 8 wizards and witches swung around and pointed their wands at him. He fought off the urge to reach for his wand in his pocket. Doing so would only set them off.

"Oh, Harry! You're alright!" Molly cried, starting toward him. Arthur pulled her back causing her to look at him with reproach.

"I'm sorry, Molly, but we have to make sure it's really him."

"Potter," barked out Moody, his wand still steady on him as his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What was the question we asked you last year?"

"You asked what form my Patronus took. My answer was the stag." One by one, all the wands were put away. This time, Molly was able to rush forward and pull Harry into her arms. He returned the embrace half-heartedly, still unsure as to what the Order was doing here in the first place.

"What the bloody hell is going on?!" came the surprised and annoyed voice of Mr. Dursley. He and the other two Dursleys appeared at the door. "What are you freaks doing in my lawn dressed like that?! If it's about the boy, we've…"

"Quiet, Dursley!" Moody snapped irritably. "Everyone inside before they find us."

"Now, wait a minute!" Vernon tried to block the group, but one look from the intimidating Kingsley made him back away quickly.

"Before who comes, Mr. Weasley?" asked Harry once they were all situated in the living room. Arthur glanced nervously out the window.

"Death Eaters, Harry."

"They're here?!" he shot up from his seat as though it were red hot. Tonks huffed angrily.

"Security isn't worth dragon piss in the Ministry these days. Someone leaked that you lived in this area. They must not know exactly where you live or you'd be dead or captured long before we got here."

"We're running out of time as it is," stated Emmeline, her wand still clutched in her hand. "They have dragons in the sky and searchers on the ground going door to door."

"Dragons?!" exploded Vernon. He rounded on the startled boy furiously. "Boy, what trouble are you getting in this time?! If you put my family in any sort of danger, I'll…"

"Don't you blame this on Harry," defended Tonks fiercely. "If you'd shut your miserable trap, we might be able to find a way out of this."

Mrs. Figg sighed in defeated acceptance. "Even if you found a way passed the Death Eaters and two Russian Redback dragons, they'd still tear this neighborhood apart looking for him."

Tonks frowned. "All those poor Muggles. There must be a way to save them."

A loud explosion of red light filtered through the windows. A loud rumble, the one mistaken for thunder, was now easily identified as a dragon's growl. They were getting closer and closer. Even the screams of terror from the neighborhood Muggles were becoming more audible. For the survivors of this attack, the memory reconstruction needed would be nearly as damaging as the invasion itself.

Moody shook his head and dragged Harry from the window. His all-business attitude was what was needed to shake the others out of their stupor. "It's too late for them. They must take care of themselves. Our one and only concern is Harry. Now let's get out of here!"

"Wait!" Harry cried as Arthur bodily moved him towards the fire. "Take them with us!"

"Take who?" Shacklebolt asked as Tonks retrieved her Floo Powder. In her excitement, the young Auror dropped her bag and spilled it all over Petunia's beloved white carpet. Said Aunt let out a wail of protest at the treatment her poor carpet received.

"I-if we can't save everyone, let's at least take the Dursleys." His voice was a bit shaky, but it still hadn't all sunken in yet. He was going on pure auto-pilot with all the adrenaline built up over the past two weeks. Everything was happening so fast, it was hard to keep up with it all.

Molly looked at him like he was mad. "Harry, after everything they've done to you…"

"I don't care!" he shot back. He had never spoken to his only mother figure like that, but at the moment he didn't care. "All the people who die today are going to die because of me! It'll be my fault whether you say it is or not! How will I ever live with myself if I knew I could save lives and didn't?"

"But Harry, there's no time!" shouted Tonks as the red lights came right outside the house. "If we had…"

"I wasn't able to save Sirius," he pleaded to her. The room calmed at the mention of their lost comrade. At this, he pressed on. "Let me save them."

"Let's move double quick then," Moody ordered taking the powder from Tonks. He threw it in and shouted "12 Grimmauld Place!" The flames grew higher and green. He turned to Vernon and his family. "Move it, Dursleys, before you end up as dragon food!"

Petunia hesitated, clutching her frightened son to her chest. "But…"

"Do you want to be safe or not?!" exclaimed Emmeline Vance. "The Death Eaters are nearly on us! There is no time!"

"This is the only way, Aunt Petunia," Harry pushed when she still paused. "If you don't come you'll all be killed! They'll learn I live here and then it's all over!"

"Petunia, stop!" Vernon ordered seeing her move toward the wizards at the fireplace. She looked back at him with anger and desperation in her eyes that neither he nor his nephew had ever seen before. "We can't trust these freaks!"

"I'm not losing our son because of your silly fears, Vernon!" she shouted. This was the first she had ever gone against him in this kind of matter and also the first time she defended Harry, albeit inadvertently. However, no one had time to marvel at this, for she pushed Dudley and herself into the green flames with ease, as though she had known all along what to do. Vernon glared at his nephew as though to say he'd deal with him later before following his wife and son.

Next, Harry led Mrs. Figg up to the fire. "You're next." She turned to him with a worried expression on her face.

"But my cats, my babies! I can't leave them!"

"They'll be alright, now go on! I'm not going until you do, so go on ahead. We'll be right behind you."

Not entirely convinced, she nevertheless jumped through the fireplace. Harry felt many hands shoving him in next. The force of the pushes prevented any retaliation from him.

"That's enough playing hero for one day, Potter," he heard Moody say. The next thing he knew, he was on the floor of the Black house living room with the rest of the Order, the Weasleys, and the Dursleys waiting for him.

Ron helped him to his feet as they waited for the rest to follow. The wait was nearly unbearable until finally Molly came through. Ginny jumped forward to her mother.

"Mum! What's going on?! Where is everyone?"

Molly sat down for a moment to catch her breath. Her eyes were worried, but she put up a brave face for the others. "Don't fret, dear. They'll be along shortly. Just ran into a spot of trouble, that's all."

At this, Harry knew the Death Eaters had broken in. Then, before he could think too much further about it, Emmeline dashed through followed by Dung and Arthur. Mr. Weasley was sporting a long angry gash across his chest and young Miss Vance was holding her wand arm gingerly. All that remained in Privet Drive were the three Aurors.

"Those damn dragons got a good chunk out of me," Emmeline spat out, losing her normally calm demeanor. She was struggling away from Molly who was trying to make her show her arm. There was blood seeping through her fingers, betraying a worse wound than she cared to let on.

"Oh come now, Emmeline," Molly chastised. "My Charlie has been playing with dragons since he was a boy. If anyone can treat a bite it's me." She managed to get a hold of the wound, the younger witch hissing at the pain it caused. Looking it over, she called to her husband who was eyeing the fire worriedly. "Arthur, call up Charlie from the basement. It doesn't look poisoned, but I want to make sure. I've never seen a Russian Redback bite before."

When he left, Mrs. Weasley turned to her children, Hermione, and Harry who were all still waiting by the fire. "Perhaps it is best if…"

"Oh, no!" boomed Mr. Dursley cutting her off. "Before anyone does anything, you will tell me what is going on! Who are you people and why is our house under attack?!"

"How much do they know, Harry?" asked Molly, ignoring his childlike behavior.

"None," Harry shook his head. "I didn't want to get their hopes up that I'd die while I was away." His surrogate mother had trouble telling if he was serious or not.

"Then I think it's best that we discuss this after dinner. Fred, dear, if you would show them to their rooms…"

"I want to know why my son is in danger!" shrieked Petunia who looked as though she hadn't let go of her large son in the whole time they were there. For his incredible size and pride, young Dudley looked rather grateful to be locked in her embrace.

"Not so loud, Aunt Petu…"

It was too late. Standing so close to the hallways, Mrs. Dursley had awoken the slumbering Mrs. Black. And she never was the most pleasant woman to wake.

"Filthy Muggle scum befouling the house of my fathers! How dare you enter my manor!" As she ranted and raved on in her usual manner, everyone rushed to close the curtain. Getting over her initial good scare, Petunia followed cautiously with her famly to see who the shrieking woman was.

"But… but it's just a painting," remarked the ever-observant Dudley. "It's just a trick, isn't it?"

"Trick?!" exclaimed Mrs. Black in indignation. "I?! A mere charlatan's charade? I have more magic in my left pinkie that you can ever conceive of, you rotten Mudblood brat!"

"Don't you speak to my son that way!" Petunia yelled back, not realizing her breath was being wasted on a portrait.

"Leave my home, you wretch!" the dead matriarch commanded. "And take your blood traitors and Mudbloods with you!"

"It wasn't my brilliant idea to come to this place!" Petunia denied with passion. "Like I asked to be whisked here by this group of freaks."

"Harry, is it just me or is your Aunt… getting along with Mrs. Black?" asked Ron who was staring at the two women agreeing to disagree.

"In her own twisted and demented way… yeah, I think she is." Half of the company was covering their ears from the women having a row. The other half, including the younger generation, was in awe of the scene. For now, Mrs. Black and Mrs. Dursley, two women who couldn't be more different, were spending most of their considerable lung power joining forces. They were now collectively bashing on the Order and its members, including such insults from their breeding to their hygiene.

As words of 'half-breeds' and 'freaks' floated around their heads like the scent of rotten peaches, Ron turned to Harry and Hermione. "Sirius would've gotten a kick out of this."

Harry managed a pained smile at the comment. "Yeah, he would've, wouldn't he?"

Ron realized his mistake immediately in mentioning his friend's dead godfather. While he and Hermione were able to move on after Sirius' final battle, if what Remus had hinted at was true, then Harry was still as much a wreck as the day the death had sunk in.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I… he… I didn't…"

The 16-year old waved off his apology and turned away from him, pretending to be interested in his aunt. "It's ok, Ron." No it isn't. "I'm fine." No I'm not. "It's been almost two months." Seems like a day or a year sometimes. "I'm over it." I don't know if I'll ever be.

He smiled a smile that they all knew was fake and looked back at George and Fred who had managed to interrupt the women and were now trying to close the curtain. The sudden silence in the hallway made the others' ears ring.

"Weasley! Vance!" came the hoarse voice of Mad-Eye from the living room. With the curtain finally shut, everyone could easily hear the sound of two pairs of dragon-hide boots clamoring out of the fireplace.

One by one, the members of the Order hurried back, the younger ones close behind. With nothing better to do, the Dursleys trailed after them, looking warily at the innocent-looking curtain.

Moody was limping more than usual and looked as though he'd taken a few more hexes than is healthy. Kinsley hadn't been bitten or scratched, but he'd suffered more curses from the looks of it.

"If I never see a damned dragon ever again…" the ex-Auror cursed as Molly took a look at his leg, assured by Charlie that that breed of dragon did not have any venom. However, the wounds tended to get infections easily, so she had to treat it quickly.

Harry looked between the two Aurors and the fireplace, now vacant of the green flames.

"They can't track us now," Moody explained. "Destroyed the fireplace on the other end as we went through. Nasty buggers they were. Put up a good fight."

Harry's sense of unease finally came to a head as he realized what it was that was missing.

"Where's Tonks?"

End Part One


	2. Pocketful of Thoughts

Part Two: Pocketful of Thoughts  


Harry looked through the living room again, making sure he wasn't just not-seeing things. No, the young Auror was nowhere to be found. "Where's Tonks?" he asked again, growing more worried by the minute. She hadn't come through yet, and if the Dursleys' fireplace was destroyed…

"Still back there, covering our exit," Moody panted, recovering his strength. But he didn't look worried in the slightest.

"Oh don't you mind about little Tonks," Kinsley assured them. "She may not have much experience, but I've seen her in real action. Those Death Eaters will be begging for Azkaban before she even breaks a sweat."

Somehow, Harry did not feel too reassured. No matter how much spunk one had, two Russian Redbacks and a few dozen Death Eaters would make even the great Dumbledore pause.

"How will she get back?" asked Hermione, also worried for her new friend.

Kingsley shook his head, not letting on any worry for his young protégé. "She'll find her own way home. We Aurors are trained to think on our feet. It's half of what we do. If Tonks remembers her training, she'll be just fine."

"Now off to your rooms with you to freshen up," Mrs. Weasley entered the conversation. "Fred, show the Dursleys to their rooms so they can settle in before dinner." Without anything else to do, and a promise for full explanations later, the Dursleys reluctantly followed the equally reluctant twin upstairs.

As Harry turned to escape to his own room shared with Ron, he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Mad-Eye Moody with a grim expression on his face. "You acted like an Auror out there today, Potter," he said softly, but with uncharacteristic warmth. "McGonagall says you fancy the noble profession."

"I didn't get to save all those people today," was the soft reply. "And if anything happens to Tonks, it'll be because of me. Aurors don't let people get hurt because they're too inept to keep themselves out of trouble. Four people isn't 200. I couldn't make a difference."

The hand on his shoulder became nearly painful in its harsh grip. "It made a bloody difference to those four people. Our mission was to get you and only you. You jeopardized that mission. But I think I'd be more worried if you hadn't done anything to save them. You're a fool with a heart, Potter, but with some right training, I think you'd make a bloody fine Auror. You did good today. Leave it at that."

Harry recognized the rare praise for what it was, but he knew he couldn't accept it. "But…"

"You're not invincible. You can't always save 200." His voice grew softer to its earlier tone. "Just as you can't always save 1."

At this, Harry walked out of Moody's grip and up the stairs without another word or glance back. The old Auror had crossed the line and the boy didn't want to hear anymore. The frightened voice of Dudley managed to drown out any of his self-deprecating thoughts. Knowing what kind of horrors this house may still hold, and his cousin's knack for finding such trouble, Harry moved to investigate quickly. The last thing he needed was to be blamed for a cursed trunk eating his Muggle cousin.

The large boy had wandered away from his parents and into a side passage of the deceptively small mansion. He was now in Buckbeak's room being nearly mauled by the irate hippogriff. Buckbeak was still tethered to the foot of the large king-sized bed. However, he was pulling at his rope desperately in his attempt to get at the boy who invaded his space.

Dudley, freeze! Stop yelling, it'll only get him angrier," Harry warned, knowing how dangerous an angry Buckbeak could be.

Amazingly, Dudley did stop. Not a muscle moved, but his eyes were wide with fear and a little whimper escaped now and then. Buckbeak was still flapping wildly, though not as desperately as before.

Harry inched forward until he was side by side with his cousin. Bowing solidly before the hippogriff, he waited patiently for him to return the favor.

Buckbeak immediately recognized the boy who had saved his life and the life of his fugitive Master. He bowed right back, chirping in friendly greeting. The larger of the boys was nearly forgotten. Nearly.

"It's ok, Buckbeak," Harry soothed as he reached out to pet him. "Dudley is my cousin. He didn't mean to upset you." When the hippogriff turned a suspicious eye on the large boy, Harry said, "Bow to him, Dudley. And apologize for upsetting him."

"But, I… what is it?!"

"Buckbeak is a hippogriff. They're really proud and you offended him by not bowing. Now do it!"

Quivering like a hunted rabbit, the obese 16-year old managed to fold himself in what he must have thought was a bow. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hippogriff for bothering you." It was probably the first time in his life that he ever voluntarily apologized for anything, but the sight of the enormous hippogriff glaring down on him must have let him make the exception.

Buckbeak must have found this less than satisfactory, but nevertheless he bobbed his head to Dudley. It wasn't a real bow, not by hippogriff standards, but at least it meant that he wouldn't rip the boy to pieces.

"Alright, Dudley, now get out of here before you get him upset again," Harry ordered, not in the mood to play any superiority games with his cousin. "Go off and ask a witch or wizard about your parents or your room. But don't touch anything or go anywhere without one of us with you again, alright?"

It was more than alright, for Dudley zoomed so quickly out of the room that it would seem impossible for one his size.

Satisfied that his overweight nemesis was taken care of, Harry turned to stroke Buckbeak's large downy neck. Buckbeak had been nudging him for attention for a while, and was getting quite impatient.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with that great lug, Buckbeak," he said. "And I don't expect you've been getting that much attention since… last term."

The hippogriff chirped sadly in the affirmative. The Order made sure he was taken care of, but the only one who had played and talked with him was his Master. A Master who he hadn't seen in many many weeks. He did not understand why his fellow fugitive would not come to him anymore, and this made him irritable and stir-crazy. But the ministrations of his younger friend calmed him down considerably.

Harry looked down at the hippogriff's right foreleg. An old white bandage was loosely wrapped around it. "Is this where…"

He didn't need to ask, he knew it was. Dropping to his knees, he unwrapped the gauze, surprised that Buckbeak allowed him to do so. There, upon the smoothly scaled leg was a long healing wound. It had obviously been a deep cut, meant to keep the one healing it a long time. Now, it was healing nicely, barely anything more than a scar.

"Damn him!" Harry spat. All the memories of that day flew back to him. "That rotten, traitorous House Elf! If it weren't for him…" he stared at the ground miserably. "No… if it weren't for me. It's all my fault, Buckbeak. I was stupid and reckless and everything he told me not to be and he's dead because of it."

Buckbeak started at this, chirping in confusion. Sirius? His Master? Dead? No, that's not right. Throughout their year and a half of life on the run, Buckbeak and Sirius had faced many dangers and come out on top. The young human had to be wrong.

But deep in his heart, the hippogriff knew it to be true. Sirius would have come to him sooner if he could. He would have been rowing with Molly by now or laughing with Remus. Something very wrong had happened to take his Master away from this world and put new grief and sorrow into already haunted emerald eyes.

Harry wrapped his arms around Buckbeak's plumed head, probably one of the few in the world to willingly embrace a hippogriff. "Remus said that Sirius left the house and everything in it to me. He said that meant you too. I'll take care of you, Buckbeak, I promise. I'll ask Hagrid what to do so you won't be unhappy. Is that ok?"

Buckbeak arched his neck down and nipped so lightly on the boy's shoulder, he may as well not have done it. But in this gesture, Harry knew the hippogriff accepted his new Master. Their relationship would be built on trust. Trust that they would protect and take care of each other.

The boy let go of his new charge and looked around the room. It was a large room, as all rooms in this mansion tended to be. The sheets on the enormous bed, now tattered from its current occupant making his nest, were of the finest velvet red. Tapestries adorned the walls and the remains of what appeared to be an expensive bureau lay in the corner.

"What sort of room was this?" he asked rhetorically. He got up and sifted through the top drawer of the nightstand next to the bed. In it were fancy combs and hairclips befitting a queen. Then it dawned on him. "This was his parents' room." Why would Sirius give his parents' room to Buckbeak?

There was something else in the drawer too. A four-piece picture album, each part a frame that connected them together.

The first picture was of an aristocratic man dressed in his finest. His hair was long and so black it nearly matched the rich royal blue of his robes. Cold blue eyes stared up at Harry haughtily. But the darkness in him was not so profound that it chilled him the way it did when Lucius Malfoy glared at him. Mr. Black was a man who relied mostly on his wealth and status. His resemblance to Sirius in his elder years was noticeable. It was as though someone had warped the loyal Padfoot into something dark and twisted.

The next picture was one that Harry winced at the sight of. Normally when he saw the intimidating visage of Mrs. Black, ear-splitting screaming accompanied it. But this one remained silent, as all photos were. Now that he was actually able to study her image without getting a headache, one could see what she really may have been like. Her resemblance to Sirius, or rather, Sirius' resemblance to her was even more profound than with the father.

As much as Sirius would turn in his proverbial grave, Harry had to admit that he was his mother's son. From the handsome face, to the almond-shaped eyes, right down to a pair of lungs that could exhaust a banshee, nearly every feature was shared by mother and son. Strength lay in her lapis-lazuli eyes, strength that came not from wealth or power, but from the soul. Hers was an unbreakable spirit.

The next picture, to Harry's bittersweet surprise, was of a 15-year old Sirius, taken a year before the boy would turn his back on his family forever. He looked nearly the same as the Sirius in Snape's Pensieve: mischievous, happy, and perfectly aware of his looks and talents. What surprised Harry was that this picture existed at all when Mrs. Black had made it perfectly clear that her house would not acknowledge that he even existed. Why would she have a picture in her own top drawer of him with the family?

Looking up at Harry, Sirius' face lit up. Grinning as though seeing a long-lost friend, he waved and bounced around like a hyperactive puppy. Harry smiled as well despite himself. It was good to see Sirius again smiling in that carefree way even though it still tore at his heart. But when Sirius mouthed the word 'James,' Harry's smile dropped. Molly's words came back to haunt him.

_"He's not James, Sirius!"_

How many times had she said that to him during one of their fights? Those two were constantly arguing about him, it was a wonder they could live under the same roof at times. But even though this 15-year old Sirius could not possibly recognize him, the thought that Sirius' adoration for Harry stemmed solely on his looks would not leave him. Did he look so much like his dead father that Sirius really thought his best friend was back? Was he not his own person worthy to be cared for?

A voice in the back of his mind scoffed at those thoughts. Sirius wasn't stupid, he knew that Harry was Harry and James was James. He had just been out of the loop for a while. The boy had seen moments when his godfather momentarily lost himself; the dates on newspapers confused him now and then, as though he did not know what year it was. That did not mean that he did not know who was who.

Not wanting to think any more on it, he moved on to the 4th and final picture. In it was a boy around 13 years old that had the same black hair that fell in front of lazuli almond-shaped eyes as Sirius. But as Harry looked further, Regulus seemed to share a few more of his father's traits than his older brother. He did not seem to have the strength in his eyes that his mother and brother had. Harry could see a weakness there, an over confidence in his financial and familial security perhaps. But even though his arrogance was plain as day, Harry couldn't see anything in those bright eyes that would predict a future as a Death Eater. When the boy caught sight of Harry looking down on him, he didn't wave enthusiastically, but he did nod his head in friendly greeting which Harry felt inclined to return.

He wanted to keep the small group of picture frames, but it felt too much like stealing. The house and all its belongings were now his, and he knew Sirius wouldn't have minded. But if he started changing things in the house, if he began moving things to his liking, it would be like admitting Sirius had come and was now gone. Like Mrs. Black had done.

"Harry! Dinner's ready!" came the voice of George from the bottom of the stairs. Startled, he looked at the clock in the corner. Had he been up here so long? Stuffing the pictures into his pocket, he rushed downstairs. He and Remus had made a mutual agreement a few weeks ago to worry the Order as little as possible. That included coming to and eating at mealtime. And Harry wanted to keep up his end of the bargain, just so he could reassure his friend if… no, when Remus returned.

The table was set in much the same fashion as it always was. Tonks' seat was currently being occupied by Mrs. Dursley. The seat next to it at the head of the table, Sirius' seat, was filled by Mr. Dursley. That in and of itself was enough to put Harry in a foul mood. But the seat on the other side of Mr. Dursley, the one usually reserved for Harry, was taken by his cousin already. So now he couldn't even sit next to Ron to vent about his family. The only other available seat was Remus', which was empty next to Moody and Mrs. Figg.

"Tonks isn't back yet?" he asked by way of bringing his presence to their attention. He meandered his way to the werewolf's chair, not once acknowledging the Dursleys.

"She'll be back in her own good time, Potter," Moody chastised. "Now don't you worry any more about it."

"Harry, I didn't get to see you much before dinner," Hermione said softly from her seat across from him. "Is everything alright?

He gave her a slight look that said 'what do you think?' He nodded anyway for the sake of Molly who would be sure to fuss like no one ever could if she thought he was miserable. He wasn't miserable per say, not anymore. But it was something that he wanted to deal with on his own. "Everything's fine. I just visited Buckbeak for a while."

At the name of the large hippogriff, Dudley dropped the roll he was grabbing at, but otherwise had no other reaction. It seemed he wanted to make a low profile among all the witches and wizards. A hard feat when one weighed the same as a young elephant. Uncle Vernon narrowed his eyes at his son's slip, always the one keen on picking up on 'weirdness.'

"And what sort of… person is this… er, Buckbeak?" he asked calmly. His tone had thankfully gone down from his earlier shouting. Either he lacked the long-term lung capacity that his wife had, or he was trying his hardest not to upset any of his hosts.

The room quieted down a little. The Muggles had been keeping to themselves until now. Now was the time the Dursleys finally found out about the world their nephew went to for 9 months at a time. And after the stories… well, most of the Order was curious about the strange Muggles they heard so much about.

"Buckbeak's a hippogriff, not a person," Harry replied just as calmly, not wanting to upset his uncle any sooner than possible.

"A what?" Vernon asked.

"A hippogriff. Front of an eagle and back of a horse. He's like… a pet of mine."

The great burly man had no opportunity to reply for he had to stop his wife and son from each grabbing a scoop of pasta that was going around the table. Ginny, who was sitting next to Dudley and trying to pass on the bowl nearly dropped it all at the sound of the man's demanding voice. "Bully for your pet, but we're not eating a bite until you explain to me what the bloody hell is going on!" Poor Ginny, looking slightly green with nervousness, sent a look for help to Harry.

He knew his relatives' calmness was too good to last. "Uncle Vernon, please…"

"No, not this time, boy! I think we've been more than patient with all this up till now. We've had our home attacked by Death Heaners, whatever the hell they are, shoved through a bloody fire, and now we're shacked up in some mad clown house!"

"Calm down, Mr. Dursley," Arthur said with the patience only a father of 7 could posses. "I understand how this must be most distressing for you. I assure you that we'll explain everything you want to know before the night it out. Now would you like to try some spaghetti? My wife, Molly, is a wonder in the kitchen."

"Please, Uncle Vernon," Harry pleaded for peace. "Just eat something. I'll tell you everything you want to know."

"Do you have any specific questions, Mr. Dursley?" asked Arthur, still the futile peacemaker.

"Questions? Of course I have questions! What the hell is going on?!"

"How much do you know about our world? About Harry?"

"Nothing! That blasted boy doesn't tell us anything."

"I see." Arthur paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "Well, in a nutshell, in our world, Harry is famous." He let that sink in for a moment before continuing. "15 years ago, Harry defeated the most powerful Dark Wizard of our time. This wizard had terrorized our world, and yours though you didn't know it, since you and I were young. And Harry managed to defeat him while only a baby."

The story began from there and went on to present day. Harry had to give the Dursleys credit: they managed to be a decent audience, their curiosity momentarily overriding their revulsion for all things magical. He had to clarify a few things when Mr. Weasley got ahead of himself. But the Dursleys managed to get the main points.

"The war has started again," Arthur finished. "There… have already been casualties. Your family will be in danger for as long as You-Know-Who knows you are in contact with Harry."

"Then that's it then," Uncle Vernon deduced. "We cut all ties to the boy and your little civil war will let us be!" His wife and son did not join in his ravings, both looking slightly ill. But Aunt Petunia's face also held no great surprise for what was going on. This was so new for her family, yet, despite trying her hardest to lead a normal life, of the three, she held the most knowledge of this strange new world.

"It will never let you be until it's done and Voldemort destroyed," Harry denied, ignoring the flinches that passed among most of his magical companions. "Where will you go back to? The house is destroyed! And the Death Eaters will keep on coming after you in case you know anything, even if you don't. You're going to have to stay here for a while, so you may as well get used to it."

"Do not take that tone with us, boy," Uncle Vernon growled. "In your freaky world you may be some special little celebrity, but that doesn't give you the right to…"

"Oh come off it, Dursley," Moody growled right back. "Your belly-aching is giving me indigestion."

"And what do you expect us to do while you fight your war?" asked his aunt, finally bringing herself into the conversation. She was still very calm, almost excessively so, as though to keep in the shock settling in. Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know. I guess you'll just have to stay here with me."

"Don't tell me this mad house is yours?" his uncle cried in disbelief. While it certainly held its share of oddities, anyone could see this manor was a veritable mansion worth a good fortune.

Hermione saw this branch of conversation was making her friend uncomfortable so she tried to end it quickly. "It was given to him."

"Who would give you a house?" Dudley snorted, gaining some confidence.

Harry's fist banged against the table loudly, causing complete silence in the room. He had had enough of this round-about inquisition and his family's hostility. All he wanted was to rest in this house where he knew he was safe and forget about what had just happened. But every time he began to relax, the fresh pain from Sirius' death was always brought up. His face was pained as he spoke, but his eyes were smoldering emeralds that shone dangerously. "My godfather left it to me before he died a few months ago."

Vernon would have made some cheeky remark, but the look on his nephew's face made him hold it in. He had never sent the boy like… this before. For a moment he thought he could feel the power in the boy's body and he knew he was much more dangerous than previously believed.

"Alright then, fine," he reluctantly agreed. "We'll stay for the time being. But if you're the only one that can end this bloody war, then you'd better damn well hurry. I'll not have my family in danger any longer than necessary."

"I'm going as fast as I can," the boy replied, miserable with the situation and himself.

"It's getting late," Molly said as she began to collect the plates. "We won't be winning any wars tonight. So why don't you children head up to bed. You've had a long day."

Most were eager to comply, uncomfortable with the conversation. But Harry stayed behind. He stared down at the empty space in front of him for a moment before he spoke next. "Mrs. Weasley… where's Professor… er… Remus? He said he would only be gone for a few days, and I never hear that he got back."

Molly didn't look at him as she answered, bustling with the plates more than usual. "His assignment ran a little later than expected."

"Is he alright though? What did he have to do?"

"We don't talk about that, you know that, Harry. Now don't you worry about Remus, he's the brains of the Order with a few tricks up his sleeve. He'll be fine," Mr. Weasley assured him.

Somehow, this failed to cheer Harry up. He sensed a cloud of denial over the house. If someone wasn't there, then there was no reason to worry. Those missing would be just fine. There was no need to rush out for a rescue mission. Had the events of last spring not only made Harry overly cautious, but the Order as well? Did they no longer wish to run into a hidden trap like the one Harry had unknowingly sent them into?

End Part Two

A/N: Alright, I know there's more than one person reading this. How am I supposed to know how good I am doing if no one bloody tells me? If you hate it, tell me why so I can try to improve. If you like it, tell me why so I can continue what I'm doing. Feedback people! I need feedback! I spend way too much time writing this stuff up for you, the least you can do is spend 2 minutes writing a review. puppy dog eyes please? Ok, ranting done

Now to respond to my lovely reviewer!

Nuwie: sorry about not emailing you sooner. School is crazy and with marching band and rotc, it's lucky I get a moment to sleep and eat. so yeah, I'm plugging away at it, and I'll send another picture or two you way. Btw, the pic you sent me didn't work. Ok, now to the actual review : ) Of course there will be more Remus! What would I do without him? And I like your little thought about Remus and what he feels about Sirius butting in on Harry's affections. May I use it? Ttyl!


	3. Whispers in the Dark

A/N: Ok, now we get to see just what Remus has been up to that's been taking so long. Unfortunately Tonk is not in this, but we'll see just what her story in Part Four. I mention things in this that refers to my short story 'Separate and Superior' which is as of yet still unfinished. You don't have to read it to understand this, but I recommend it if only for the fact that I create my own little werewolf culture.

Part Three: Whispers in the Dark

That night, Harry was unable to sleep. Thoughts of his lost friends made him much too troubled to calm down enough to rest. With Ron and Dudley snoring peacefully next to him, he had no one to talk to. So he decided to take a walk in the ungodly hours of the morning. Hours that were pitch black still with no sign of dawn yet on the horizon.

The Black mansion was much more intimidating at night, he decided as he traveled its hallways. The leering gazes of the many portraits, the ones that were awake, were slightly unnerving. And each portrait held the same darkness that gripped the hearts of Sirius' parents. It was quite easy to lose your way in the mini labyrinth. After nearly 10 minutes, Harry came to the conclusion that it was designed this way so that only those who should be there would know how to navigate. Uninvited intruders were obviously not welcome.

It was still hard to imagine that the entire manor was his. He no longer needed to worry about where he was going to live after he left the Dursleys, it was all right here. He pondered the changes he would make to it. Probably the same sort of changes Sirius was trying for; restoring it to its former glory minus the Dark influences. And he knew he would have to deal with Kreacher before the summer was out. Since his return, the Elf had been hiding from Harry and the others, but without permission to leave, he was a virtual prisoner.

As tempting as it was to kick him out, the danger of the Elf revealing their location, if he hadn't already, was too great. Harry didn't trust the Fidellius Charm that much to protect against an evil Elf leading the dark forces here. Yet for the moment, they were at an unspoken agreement to stay away from each other until a solution was found.

He wandered the halls for a while longer before coming to a new one he had never seen before. This mansion certainly was deceptively larger than it looked; perhaps there was a map somewhere that could ease his way come morning. At the end of this small turn-off was a set of large mahogany doors. Upon these doors were a set of brass knockers shaped like gargoyle heads with the rings through their ears.

As he reached for the doorknob, both knockers sprang to life, their lifeless eyes glowing in an unholy light. They growled at him so menacingly, he let go of the door and took a step back. What new trap was this carefully hidden in the bowels of the mansion?

"Who are you?" demanded the left gargoyle, baring his brass fangs. "Why do you seek that which is beyond these doors?"

"M-my name is Harry Potter," he stammered, trying to explain himself. "I just…"

"What's that?" asked the right one glaring at him. "Speak up, boy. Don't mumble!"

Harry figured the knockers in their ears stunted their hearing, so he obediently raised his voice. "My name is Harry Potter. I was just looking around, and…"

"Harry Potter you say?" asked the left, the shining yellow eyes dimming slightly so they didn't look so fierce.

"Yes, I'm Sirius' godson. The Master of this house." Hopefully they would know that name and respect him by association.

"Former Master you mean," giggled the right throwing him off-guard. "He hasn't been the Master since he snuffed it, eh?"

"You're our Master now, aren't you?" stated Lefty. All signs of danger from the two door knockers had disappeared, leaving nothing but two bantering enchanted gargoyles.

"How did you…"

"Told us he did. Told the whole house so there'd be no mistake. He said you were his heir. Now that he's dead, that makes you our Master."

"So how can we be of service?" asked Righty.

"What's behind these doors?" asked Harry, flabbergasted at the knowledge that the whole house hailed him as the new Master. It appeared his late godfather left nothing to chance. Now he was not only Master in legality, but in reality as well if the very mansion obeyed him.

"Can't say," Left shrugged. The boy frowned.

"But I'm your Master." Would he ever get used to that title? "I'm telling you to tell me…"

"We can't say because we don't know," insisted Lefty. "We're only door knockers. Our job is to protect the room, not to see it."

Harry sighed. Maybe he should have stayed in bed and counted ceiling tiles after all. But he was curious now and would not be able to rest until he found out what the gargoyles were hiding. "Fine. Then let me in."

"Love to, Master, but we can't," said Righty.

"What? Why not? I thought…"

"Not without the password, Master. It's the rule. Why else do you think we're here? You don't put bloody knockers on a door unless they have a purpose, do you?" It had a point.

"Well, what's the password?"

"Come come, Master, that would be cheating," Lefty chastised playfully.

"Can't we give him a hint?" asked Righty.

Left scoffed. "Where's the fun in that? He's a Black, inee? He should know this."

"I'm not a Black," Harry argued. "So how should I…"

"Master Sirius declared you his heir before he died. As far as Grimmauld Manor is concerned, that makes you his son. He took care of you, didn't he?"

"Fed you? Gave you a bed?" continued Righty. "He took you in as his own, commanded the house to treat you as his own, so that makes you a Black."

"Humans," sighed Lefty. "Don't know anything."

"So this password is something everyone in the Black family should know?"

The knockers didn't answer.

"Toujours Pur? Always Pure. The family motto."

"There now," said Righty. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" With that, the two knockers fell silent and the large doors swung open.

Harry sighed as he stepped into the large room. Well, that had just been ridiculous in its simplicity. The vanity of the Blacks permeated throughout this house even into its passwords. This familial pride made up its very foundations and he was unsure if he should try to change it. And Mrs. Black, only married into this family, seemed to embody the family's ideals. Her influence on the place was vast; she must have been a powerful woman in life. And some small part of him wished he could have known her, just to see that kind of power.

As he walked further into the room he could hear whispers all around him. Hasty, curious whispers that did not take care to be inaudible. It was pitch black and he couldn't see anything. There weren't even any windows to let in the light of the full moon. But the sounds surrounded him, making him feel very claustrophobic. Never one for darkness as it was too much like the dark cupboard, Harry fought to control the childish fear that rose in him.

"Is anyone there?" he asked quietly. The whispers immediately ceased, and he was left standing in silence.

"Who are you?" demanded a sudden voice. "What is your business here?"

"My name is Harry Potter," he said in what he hoped was a strong voice. "I'm the Master of this house." It still tasted strange in his mouth when he said it. It didn't feel right.

"Master?" came a new voice. "You can't be the Master."

"Why not?" Harry was slightly affronted.

"Because my brother is the Master."

"Who are you?" Harry asked, feeling curiously unnerved. As if his night wasn't strange enough.

"Regulus Black," the voice sounded annoyed, as though he shouldn't even need to introduce himself.

"Are you a ghost? Why can't I see you?" Harry peered around the room, trying to see the familiar silvery sheen of a phantom.

"Light your wand, boy," snorted a woman's voice. "You can't see anything in the dark, can you?"

"But I'm not allo…" A man's voice interrupted him.

"The wards I placed on this house are powerful enough that the Ministry itself would have trouble even pinpointing our location let alone know there is illegal magic going on."

"Your wards? Mr…. Black?" Sirius' father? The one who protected this house so much in life?

"Castor Black at your service, lad. Now light your bloody wand, will you?"

Hands shaking slightly, he did as he was told muttering a 'lumos' half expecting the Ministry to come and snap his wand for more underage magic. What he saw drove all thoughts of this from his mind.

-

Amber eyes gleamed dangerously into grey, promising no leniency. The two wolves circled each other slowly, neither wishing to hurt the other, but neither willing to lose ground. Muscles rippled beneath glossy coats of coarse fur, ready to spring at any moment. Their growls echoed off the walls and ceiling, attracting the attention of the other wolves of the house.

Remus was glad he had asked Severus for more of the Wolfsbane Potion in case his mission ran later than expected. Now he had complete control over his body where before it would be under the possession of a wild animal. He needed his human mind to win this fight. But he also needed this body, the body of an animal.

His opponent was unsure of his presence, and even more of his scent. The alpha wolf of the house must have known that there was something different about this loner werewolf off the streets. This knowledge made him that much more wary to allow the trespasser in. And that much more dangerous to cross. He would not let Remus near the others until he understood just why this new wolf was so peculiar. Even if it meant he had to kill him.

Remus tried to communicate his need to be allowed in to no avail. Previous wounds of similar fights made it necessary for him to rest. He did not want to fight the alpha. But with the loss of his lupine mind, so went many instincts of his kind. The wolf was ever present in the back of his mind, but silenced as it was never silenced during the rest of the month. It was hard to remember what to do to show he meant no harm. He never thought he would wish for his lupine mind to be stronger.

The other werewolf attacked suddenly with no warning, lunging for his throat. Taking Remus off-guard, the larger wolf easily gained the upper hand in the fight. Slashing and biting, the alpha pushed the intruder further away from the entrance to the main hall. He had to protect his pack from all outsiders. And if werewolf blood had to spill, then so be it. His ebony fur rose as he snarled louder, trying his best to frighten the intruder away.

For his part, Remus was trying his best to force his way in without hurting his would-be attacker. Come morning, they would no longer be wolves and blood that was shed would once again be human blood to account for. He would gain no allies by wounding the pack's leader.

As the fight escalated, more and more wolves of the house appeared from every hall and door. Most were curious about the intruder; few wolves would dare cross paths with a strong pack such as theirs, especially a loner already covered in wounds. Like their alpha, the werewolves could tell something was different about this new wolf. Something… not quite wolf. More human than is normal for the night of the full moon.

Between hits, the seasoned alpha snarled at his packmates to retreat to the basement. He would not put any of the females or pups in danger. No matter how docile the intruder was, he wasn't pack. And the unnaturalness of him was too great to ignore. Just because Remus would not move to the offensive did not mean he wouldn't. He did not become alpha by taking things at face value.

Amidst the scuffles of the pack to obey their angry leader, one small female pushed her way to the front. Ignoring the alpha's growls for her to get back, she cautiously tested the scent of the stranger. Her amber eyes narrowed in confusion as her animal mind struggled to comprehend what she was smelling. She knew this wolf. Something about him tugged at her primitive animal mind. But even as she knew this intruder, the same thing that unnerved the pack did the same to her. And she did not wish to test the strength of an intruder.

Yet, the small female couldn't let the feeling of familiarity go. Inching further toward the fighting males, she yipped softly at Remus. She wanted some sign from him that he was familiar. Perhaps a male from one of her previous packs. He did not answer, so she yipped again. Again, the intruding wolf did not answer, too focused on the attacking alpha.

She was roughly shoved to the side by her alpha who snarled at her to get away. He would not risk her safety to a stranger. It was his duty to protect her as her alpha whether she liked it or not. When he looked back to continue the fight, he was surprised to see the wolf with grey eyes flat on his back, exposing his belly and neck.

He was finally submissive.

Remus held his breath as he lay there, hoping this worked. He would not appreciate being torn apart on a miscalculation. All during the fight he struggled to listen to the faint voice of his alter-ego in the back of his mind. Of course, what the wolf in him wanted to do was challenge the alpha for control of the pack. Fortunately, Remus was able to convince it to submit. And according to the beast, this was the way to do it.

The alpha sniffed the fallen male, looking for any sign of deception. There was none. He bared his teeth at Remus, not allowing him to rise until he was satisfied. His black hackles rose in warning. What do you want, intruder?

Remus remained still. At least the attack had ceased for the moment. Only shelter, alpha.

Intruder not welcome. Alpha's pack! He growled low possessively. No one would take control of his pack.

Intruder not want pack, alpha. Intruder want shelter. Morning leave.

Remus knew that if he could stay until the moon set, he would have a chance to complete his mission. Until he transformed back into a human, the alpha would be impossible to reason with. He really should have waited until dawn to even approach the safehouse, but it couldn't be helped. He needed shelter. A werewolf caught outdoors on a full moon was as good as dead. And with his many wounds, he wouldn't stand a chance on his own.

The alpha stared down long and hard at Remus, daring him to try anything. Remus was just as determined to stare at the other wolf's muzzle, unwilling to look him in the eyes and start the whole thing over again. Finally the alpha backed away completely, convinced of his superiority.

Fine. Intruder stay. Morning leave.

Remus got up and agreed meekly. Morning leave.

The small tawny female's eyes followed him as he was shown a place to sleep, but she did not. She still struggled to remember how she knew his scent. And until she did, she would keep a safe distance. Years of hard life had taught her many lessons about trust and misplacing it. Every werewolf's life had.

-

The next day dawned brightly, promising another dreadfully humid day. The clouds lingering in the sky hinted at rain, but never delivered, instead containing all the heat. It would be nearly unbearable by noon.

Remus awoke uneasily, stiff from his night on a hard floor. His wounds had healed slightly, due to the quick healing properties of a werewolf. But they were still rather painful, and the usual soreness that came from transforming didn't help matters much. All in all, he felt like one who had had a dragon roll over him a few times. But he couldn't sleep the day away like he would have back home. He couldn't afford to. There would be time enough later to rest.

Pushing himself wearily to his feet, Remus noticed he was still alone in the small room he was shown to when the alpha let him enter. However, there were some robes laid out for him in the corner. Someone must have woken up before he did to put them there. Remus put them on gratefully.

When he exited, he made his way downstairs, impressed with the safehouse as he always was when he entered such things. For a pack who lived together, their usual home was nearly always attached to a sound building they could retreat to during the full moon. Nothing short of a Muggle nuclear weapon could cause a crack in its magical shield, so sturdy was it. And with a pack of wild werewolves running rampant inside, it had to be.

At the entrance to the real house, Remus found a young man, maybe 17 years old. Hardly a young pup, but not get a full grown wolf. He had strawberry blonde hair that was disheveled and eyes so light blue they looked like ice. His robes were as shabby as any werewolf since most wolves found employment in the magical world nearly impossible. Money was not something they ever had in excess. He could sympathize whole-heartedly, little as he had in common with the more feral breeds of werewolf.

Remus approached the adolescent pup cautiously, trying to appear as harmless as he could. Pups that age were rather easy to get excited and other werewolves tended to be more inclined to act according to instinct than Remus was. Just after a full moon was sure guarantee that the pup's mind was still very lupine. He stood 5 feet away from the lad, letting him make the first move. This was a delicate procedure. The pup eyed him suspiciously and breathed in the air around him. "You're… one we gave shelter to last night?"

Remus nodded, pleased that his scent had been remembered. Living amongst humans for so long, he had nearly forgotten that there were others with senses as keen as his. "Your alpha let me in."

"Your scent is strange. Different."

The elder werewolf knew that the boy must be referring to the changes the Wolfsbane Potion had on him. How it made him seem peculiar to the others since it hid his feral nature aside. He decided the truth would be best. "I was under the effects of the Wolfsbane Potion. It allows me to…"

"I know what it does," the pup snapped in irritation. "How did you get one? It's very expensive."

"Don't worry pup," Remus chuckled good-naturedly, easing the boy's frazzled nerves. "I didn't steal it. I know a Potions Master who was kind enough to make it for me."

Before the boy could question him further, the door behind him opened. "William? Leave the poor man alone, pup. He's wounded and tired and doesn't need you interrogating him like a criminal." A woman just younger than Remus came in scolding the pup.

Remus felt his heart constrict upon seeing the petite she-wolf. "Marie?" he whispered in shock.

Her chocolate eyes narrowed at him, distrusting the peculiar one. "My name is Anna. Marie was my mother. How do you know that name?"

"Anna, of course," he smiled slowly. "It's been years, hasn't it?"

She looked uncertain about this intruder now, remembering such feelings of recollection last night. "Have we met?"

"Use your nose," he teased gently. "You've grown lazy into your later years, Anne."

The she-wolf did so and suddenly looked as surprised as he had. Her defensive front went down immediately. "Remus? Is that you? What in the world are you doing here? I thought you had gone back to those spark shooters."

He reached out and embraced her, happy to see a familiar face. It had been much too long since he last saw the girl who had been his baby sister. Her mother, Marie, took care of him on many full moons when he had been a pup. But since his foster wolf mother was killed by Voldemort, and public views toward werewolves turned violent, he had distanced himself. In fact, what he had been doing for the past few weeks was the most interaction with others his own kind since he was 15.

"It's good to see you," he told her honestly. "You're looking good. How are things?"

She shrugged, leading her pack brother into the main house as ordered. "As well as can be expected." The uneasy shift of her eyes told him plenty. It was the same story in every pack and loner safehouse he visited. The second war was upon them and no one knew which way to turn. Memories of the last war and hundreds upon hundreds of werewolves slain served to remind them of the dangers of filthy wizards on both sides. Their hatred of all wizarding humans had been completed and none were eager to cross paths with them again.

"Where's Julian?" Remus asked, trying to change the subject. His sister only grew more unnerved at the mention of her baby brother who just recently turned 25 years old. Remus had never even met the youngest Laspron pup and was eager to.

"He left as soon as he heard the war was starting back up. There's a pack forming just north of London. He's gone to fight." Her eyes betrayed the worry she felt for her only remaining blood family. This was no light matter and many wolves would die no matter how much distance the wolves put between them and the humans.

"On which side?" He perked up. Dumbledore never told him about such a pack. Well, it looked like his return home would be delayed once more. This was not a matter he could leave uninvestigated.

"Our own side," Anna replied curtly as they walked into the living room where the main bulk of wolves were. The woman's chocolate eyes were lit with the fires of deep-set anger. An anger seen only in the eyes of half-breeds put under much abuse. "We owe nothing to those humans. No matter what side they're fighting on, it is never for us. So we don't fight for them."

Remus hadn't a chance to respond before he found himself face to face with the alpha wolf himself. The same one he had fought the night before. As strong a human as he was a wolf, this dark-skinned man was as lupine as they came. Remus doubted this alpha even had to worry about the split personalities many wolves experienced between their human and feral sides. He wondered if this man even had a human side. Even Anna, who was born a werewolf, had her moments of humanity. But this wolf, with his stone cold slate colored eyes, was truly only a wolf in human skin.

"Cale, this is Remus Lupin," Anna introduced them, presenting her brother to her leader. "Remus, this is Cale Morrison, the alpha of this pack."

**End Part 3**

A/N: Choppy? Oh yeah. Fun? I'm not quite sure. I'm sorry it took so long to get out, but once Remus made his debut, he put all halts to this thing. I was being hit with the worst Writer's Block imaginable and I'm just glad it's done with. For those of you who are Mary Sue allergic, don't worry your pretty little heads. Anna is harmless. No romantic junk, no mad crazy beauty or mind-blowing fighting skills. But I need more front line werewolves for this story and this was the only way to do it.

**Trivia Time!**

I have started a little game on my other stories so I thought I would do one here too. I will ask a question from any book or movie or whatever I feel like and I want to see how many people know it. Today's question is: What do you get when you multiply 6 by 9? Pay attention, this one is tricky and you either get it or you don't.

**Review Time!**

Shannon Snape: Thanks!

Closetfanficaddict: Oh, this isn't a writing ultimatum by any means! I will write and post with or without reviews. But it does get a little frustrating when all I get is radio silence. I hate it when writers threaten to stop writing if they don't get so many reviews and I'll never do that! Thanks for your support. Hopeully, I'll do the Dursleys justice.

Michelle: Thanks! I always wondered how the Dursleys would manage in the magical world. Unable to find a story with this in it, I had little choice but to write one! And I wasn't sure how the Buckbeak scene would be, so I'm glad you thought it worked out –smile- It was a rather 'see where they led me' scene.

Kungzoune: Thanks! I hope this chapter is to your liking. Please let me know what you think.

Samurai Demon-God Sekikage: Lmao, someone had too much sugar methinks ; ) But thanks so much for the encouragement! Unfortunately, this won't be a romance, but I will be sure to do a Blaise cameo if you would like.

Makotochi: Sorry it's a bit late, but I hope you enjoy.

Bobby: Who? Me? Torture my lovely characters? >- not me! –innocent look-. Lol. We'll just have to wait and see with Tonks, won't we?

Nuwie: What? You again? You goober! Just kidding! You know I love to hear from you! So yeah, your email's coming. And although I know how bad babelfish is, I'm going to use that and my limited knowledge of French to read your stories! Mwahahaha! Thanks for letting me use your idea, it just makes so much sense! Those three things you said you liked: the Sirius reaction, Moody, and the Buckbeak scene… those were the scenes I dreaded over. I had no idea if they were good or just terrible. Phew, I'm glad they weren't as awful as I was afraid they would be. I actually don't have a pet, I have a little brother and that's close enough. Lol. He has a fish, but that's about it for animals in our house, so I definitely went with my gut instincts on that one. That's why I always trip over scenes that include any characters as animals: I rarely get to observe animals. And yeah, you caught me, that picture did inspire my photo scene.

Japonica: Thank you for your encouragement! I know it's taken forever to come, but I'm on a much faster writing quota… let's see how long that lasts. Lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this new installment!

Gaul1: thankees! Byes!

Fornax: lol, well, here's one of them at least. You'll just have to keep worrying a little bit longer for our favorite spitfire Auror.

Stoofie: thank you for you comments and I hope you enjoy this chapter too.

Midnight Lady: Yeah, I'm a bit of an angst addict. I should go to an AA meeting, neh? 'hi, my name is Tirya and I have an angst problem….' I did hope it would seem original, I'm rather sick of the usual stories out there and wanted to write something not yet done. –crosses fingers- hopefully that is : )

Nandhp: Thank you! You asked for it!


	4. Claire de Lune

Part Four: Claire de Lune

The fierce alpha narrowed his amber eyes at the intruder he was forced to allow in. "Remus Lupin?" Cale asked suspiciously. He gave a test sniff of the new wolf, not liking what he smelled. "The spark shooter?"

Remus nodded, ever inch the submissive male to this alpha. "I am. I arrived last night seeking shelter." He wisely chose not to comment on the derogatory term for a wizard. He'd heard it enough in the past couple of weeks to become completely immune.

Immediately, the other wolves in the pack began to whisper amongst themselves. It wasn't every day that Europe's only wizarding werewolf paid a visit. His name was near legendary as he was allowed what all others were denied. Even the pups and young adults knew who he was. What could he possibly want here? Cale hushed them with a look, not even needing a verbal command. When his pack was silent, the alpha resumed his interrogation.

"It was said you forsake your blood nearly 15 years ago."

Remus knew to what he was referring. During the first war, wolves from all around the country begged him to use his wand, a wand so out of their reach, to liberate them from the Dark Lord's wave of terror and the Ministry's tyranny. Remus, knowing it to be suicidal stupidity to even think of revolt, refused. Since then he had been shunned from his people as a ministry pet and traitor to all wolves.

"I did what I felt was right and I do not regret it," Remus told Cale with strength and conviction in his voice. When dealing with wolves such as he, he could not show any weakness or hesitation. "But I come now with a message."

"From the Ministry?" the alpha sneered, obviously not so forgiving. He remembered those dark times and did not enjoy this pampered and domesticated wolf speaking to him like any other sparkshooter would. So self-righteous and proud…

"From Albus Dumbledore who has always been our greatest supporter," Remus shook his head. "It is he who let me have a wand and cauldron. And it is he who fights for wolves constantly against the Ministry and the Dark Lord. You know this." If there was a human alive or dead who the packs would listen to, it would be Dumbledore.

"What is your message?" Cale crossed his arms. He was obviously displeased at having to hear the wolf out, but not willing to risk missing something of consequence.

"Fight with us against the Dark Lord's forces. We are not the only non-humans to join the cause. We have a number of centaurs, giants, elves… things will be different for us this time in our victory. Dumbledore has promised our freedom and he does not promise things lightly." He looked around, speaking more to the pack than the alpha who was not likely to budge. So he was stretching the truth a little bit; they needed this alliance. "Equal rights. Schooling in magic and potions. Every freedom we've wanted for so long is finally at hand. But it cannot happen until the Dark Lord is defeated. And Dumbledore acknowledges the fact that there will be no victory without the strength of the wolf packs." A little flattery never hurt. Alphas were notorious for their vanity.

"You have your freedom," Cale hissed, amber eyes narrowing dangerously, not falling for a word of it. "What good are the promises of a spark-shooter, human _or_ wolf? Promises we've all heard before. You would have us all as domesticated as you."

Remus watched helplessly as whatever doubt that rose in the pack's eyes disappeared again. They would follow their alpha; it was the way it was done. Cale protected them from enemies and they owed him their loyalty. Yet they weren't mindless animals, they were human too. He had to make them see to reason despite any instincts barring the way. "But we have the Boy Who Lived. He also…"

"The pup is dead," the alpha told him harshly. "We've all heard about his supposed kindness extending to all breeds of magical creatures. But a dead pup can do nothing for us."

"Harry isn't dead," the wizard snapped, growing angry at those words obviously aimed to hurt him or make him leave. "Why did you say that?"

Cale looked furious at the very suggestion that he was lying. First this sparkshooter comes in with his pride and his pretty words. Now he insults the very alpha of the pack he is trying to win over! "I said it because it is true." He reached over to the counter where the Daily Prophet from that day rested. "Even we low-class wolves keep up with the times. Or didn't you know we are so advanced that we know how to read?"

Remus snatched it from his hands, anger quickly turning into a deep cold pit of fear. It was not true. It could not be true. It was impossible. "No one knows where he lives," the wolf insisted as he scanned the panic-stricken article that spoke of dragons and Death Eaters.

The alpha crossed his arms over a barreled chest. Steel gray eyes narrowed as he glared at the wizard. "That isn't what your Minister says. Keep reading."

So he did. As he read on, Remus became more and more certain that the Daily Prophet only jumped to a hasty conclusion. But then he saw it…

'Minister Fudge released earlier today the names of the people the Boy Who Lived resided with. And it was confirmed on the evening of the attack that the destroyed Dursley house was indeed young Mr. Potter's. While no body has yet been recovered, Aurors at the scene…'

"Obviously someone knew where the pup lived," Cale put in when Remus folded up the paper, face slightly paler than before. "Why else bring in a dozen Death Eaters and two Russian Redbacks?"

"There is no body," Remus stated, creasing the final fold deftly. His heartbeat slowed to a normal pattern as he forced himself to calm. "There is no proof. There are… people I know who would have gotten him out in time. Harry is alive."

"You sound so certain," Anna murmured, amazed at his conviction. The Remus she remembered was always shy and hesitant.

"I am," he said with confidence, though his pack-sister could see the worry still tinting his eyes. "I would know if he weren't."

Cale was less than impressed. More pretty words and foolish sentiments. "You talk like that pup is your own," he scoffed. "That spark-shooter is that important to you? To your cause?"

"It's complicated," the other werewolf snapped, growing ever more frustrated with the disgruntled alpha and his pack. He certainly didn't miss being just like them so many years ago. "Harry… He's the closest thing to a pup I'll ever have."

"Yet he doesn't see you as a father?" Now the alpha was just mocking him.

"Like I said, it's complicated." Remus struggled to find a term they, and he, would understand. "I… I'm pack. A mentor. Beyond that, I don't know."

Anna nodded her understanding. "You have to leave, don't you?"

The wizarding wolf nodded, seeing her displeasure. "My mission was to recruit wolves to the cause and this was one of the last safehouses I had to visit. I know Harry's alright, but…"

"But you have to be sure," Anna finished. They had just found each other again and now he had to leave. Leave her for his sparkshooting friends. He certainly had changed, hadn't he?

"And I should have been back long ago." His left shoulder twinged where last week's wound was still healing. The pack in the east had been far less gentle than even the volatile Cale on a full moon. "Certain things delayed me." His pack sister reached out to embrace him as he readied himself to leave, Cale forgotten to them both. It was just as well for the alpha had lost interest in the legendary werewolf, wishing him gone from his pack. The less exposure his pack had with the wizarding world, the safer they all would be.

"Don't leave us behind again, Rem," she whispered in his ear.

Remus smiled ruefully. "I doubt you'd let me if I tried." He doubted Dumbledore would let him either. Not with the strength an alliance would give them. He knew that the possibility of a wolf army in Northern London promised him plenty of work in the near future. But as Remus took his leave of the Morrison pack, he knew he had to visit home first. There was no doubt that Harry was tucked safely away by the Order, but… some part of him would not rest easy until he saw it for himself.

What he told Cale was the truth. Whether the boy knew it or not, he was pack to Remus. A pup under his full protection. Not many could claim that as he and the wolf personality in him took the matter of his devotion very seriously. And so until both Remus and Moony saw their pup, breathed in his scent, the mission would have to be put on hold. He'd been gone too long already so did not feel too guilty at coming back.

The bright light of the morning sun nearly blinded him as he stepped outside. The morning after a full moon was nearly as bad as the transformation itself sometimes. His senses went haywire, still caught between the supernatural strength of the wolf and the only slightly increased senses of his human form. And he knew that going into Grimmauld Place would be most trying on his body. All those scents and sounds of so many could easily make him pass out if he wasn't careful. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been overwhelmed; his schooldays had been notorious for intense migraines for days after a full moon.

Finding his wand was easy enough once he became accustomed to the harsh light. Since most wolves were nervous with a wand around, especially right after a full moon when they were most vulnerable, he had elected to leave it outside safely hidden under a root rather than enter with it in his jaws. It had been bad enough last night with only his scent marking him as strange. Throw in a wand as well and Cale would have most likely ripped him apart. Literally.

Remus grimaced as he bent down to retrieve the precious wand. His injuries were being rather persistent. Perhaps a trip back to headquarters really wasn't a bad idea. A soft bed and warm food would go a long way in healing what should have been done days ago. He looked back at the safehouse, seeing his sister watch from the window. He promised to himself never to leave the wolves behind again, no matter the outcome. For as much as he tried to convince himself, he was not human. And he needed to be around others like him if he ever hoped to retain his sanity in these insane times. Thinking back to Cale and his pack, however, alerted Remus to the possible dangers of returning to a more feral mindset. He could never be the way that wolf was, but if he was to gain his support, he would have to learn to think like him.

OoOoOo

Breakfast was served with little fanfare that morning. Those who had had the patience for the Dursleys' whining the previous evening had run out of it long ago. Now only a grumpy atmosphere filled a once vibrant room. Vernon had taken it upon himself to let everyone know just how badly he had slept. While Petunia remained as quiet as the night previous, looking into her oatmeal as though it was foul slop, she did nothing to stop her loud husband. Dudley, for once, was silent as a dormouse, choosing to stuff his face with Mrs. Weasley's excellent cooking, witch or no witch.

Harry gave no indication that he was even aware of his relatives' presence. All he could do for the moment was stare at the clock on the far wall. Every minute that went by was a minute without any word from Tonks and Remus. Anything could be happening to them and the Order was still too nervous after last spring to go after them.

Would more people die because of his great stupidity?

A thought drifted into his mind. A mere fledgling of one, but it was still there. The only reason Sirius and the others were hurt, why the Order was too scared to go after their fallen members, was because it was he they were worried about. For him, they would leave the safety of Grimmauld House. But not for Tonks or Remus. Sirius came after him last spring. Not Hermione or Ron or Luna or Neville or any of the others. For him. Because his godfather wanted him safe. How could he prevent that from happening again?

"Hey, Harry," Ron greeted as he stumbled into the kitchen. His red hair was tousled more than usual, and he blearily peered around in search of caffeine.

"Morning, Ron," Harry returned, casting away his disturbed thoughts.

"Morning," Hermione echoed passing him a hot mug of coffee which the boy accepted gratefully. "Sleep well?"

"Er, not so good." Ron's brown eyes flitted momentarily to Dudley who was downing his fifth pancake with no sign of stopping any time soon. Harry had to stifle a good chuckle at his best friend's discomfort. His cousin could snore up quite a storm when he wished, and last night had not been one of his better ones. Harry was long used to it by now, but his friend couldn't have known that trying to sleep in the same room as Dudley was like trying to sleep in a train station. "And you," he cast accusing eyes toward the amused boy who watched. "Where did you go last night? I woke up and you weren't there."

Harry flushed at being caught. He knew Ron was probably sorer at the fact that he hadn't been taken along rather than Harry's actual absence. Running the options through his mind, the boy wondered what to say. No doubt everyone would be vastly interested in his find behind the gargoyles' door, but for some reason he wanted to keep it to himself for the moment. It was a secret that, for now, that he wanted to stay secret.

"Oh," he tried to wave it off as though it were nothing. "I couldn't sleep so I just wandered around a bit."

Mrs. Weasley stared hard at him, having heard the boys talking. Her mother instincts kicked in, granting her the ability to pick up on the slightest hints of something amiss. "Where did you go?" she asked, voice just as light as ever, but her chocolate eyes boring into his. Harry shifted under her gaze, knowing now for the first time what it was to be given the 'look.' The one only a mother was capable of. Ginny giggled nervously next to him at the expression on his face, glad that she wasn't the one being looked at like that.

"Just around the house," he assured her. He wasn't stupid, even he knew better than to wander out of doors the day after he had nearly been a dragon's lunch. She was probably worried he had gone out to find Tonks or Remus. Did he really have that big of a reputation as a 'hero-playing prat?'

She nodded in obvious relief, but still not fully satisfied. There was something he wasn't telling her. "Come now, Harry, there are still dangerous things in this house. I wouldn't wander again until we clean the whole place out."

"Grimmauld Manor is mine now," he gently reminded her, breaking eye contact. "It recognizes itself as mine. It won't hurt me."

"Don't be too sure," Hermione piped in, taking the elder woman's side. "Who knows what could be in here still. Remember what sort of things we found last year?"

"What sort of things?" Petunia finally spoke up. Her eyes narrowed, unwilling to remain in a possibly dangerous house. She did not leave a death trap only to stay in another.

"Oh it's nothing, Aunt Petunia" Harry assured his paranoid aunt. "Really." His emerald eyes met Hermione's, begging her silently not to say any more. It was going to be hard enough dealing with his now homeless relatives without adding fear to the equation.

The 16 year old girl took the hint and agreed with him if only for the sake of the nervous Muggles nearby. Having three panicky Dursleys in this house were three too many. It was bad enough they weren't able to leave the house for the moment until situations settled themselves. The attack was still too fresh to risk anything. Better to have them stay here as willingly and quietly as possible

"Say, Harry," Fred asked from where he was seated. Next to him, asleep in his eggs and bacon, was George who was currently having his hair changing colors courtesy of his twin. "I don't suppose you've seen a missing pair of…"

The sound of a door opening and closing suddenly made the room fall silent. Everyone was accounted for with the exception of their two wayward members. No one should be coming in. Moody sprang up from his seat, wand in hand before anyone could think to stop him. He marched upstairs into the living room to greet the sudden intruder hoping for the best, but always prepared for the absolute worst. When no sound of explosions came, everyone gradually returned to their meals, assuming it was a false alarm. The only one not affected by this event was a very satiated Dudley Dursley who was leaning back in his stool looking very much like a content one-ton cat.

Moody clomped back down the stairs, the visitor in tow. Harry's ears picked up the soft voice of one who he had missed for over two weeks now. He stood up quickly, watching the door open in anxiety, ignoring the questioning looks of those around him.

Remus walked stiffly behind the ex-Auror, still getting over his fright of being pounced upon by the paranoid Moody. And now his wounds throbbed painfully from his quick reflexes used at the door. The werewolf was glad he decided to return when he did, concern for Harry aside. He didn't think he would be able to last one more safehouse after last night's full moon. Mind still closely melded with the wolf, all he wanted was to check on Harry, get some food in his stomach, and sleep the sleep of the dead. In that order. All other concerns could wait. For once he agreed entirely with his instinct's dictation.

Entering the kitchen fully, he was rudely reminded of why he hated the day after full moons so very much. The wounds he could deal with, his lupine mind he could reason with, but the strength of his senses were now to the point where it was damn painful. The scents of everyone assaulted him at once, making his eyes water from its intensity. Everyone started talking at full volume as someone, Molly he realized, rushed up to him. He thought he would pass out if it got any louder, and thank Merlin there wasn't nearly as much light as there was outside.

Blearily he searched the room, trying to find what his nose already told him was there. Harry was just standing at the other end of the room, looking at him with pained eyes as Lupin was ushered to a nearby stool and handed some tea. But there seemed to be no wound on the child and Remus was thankful to the Order for protecting him. His scent was distressed, and the werewolf was too miserable at the moment to determine why.

"Oh my," breathed Molly as she looked Remus over. He appeared to be in so much pain, but he wouldn't answer when she spoke to him. Eyes glazed over, the wolf sat hunched in the stool looking for all the world like a sick child. "Remus, what's wrong?" she tried again, hoping he would answer her this time.

He mumbled something too soft for her to hear.

"What was that?"

"Get them out," he muttered.

Not understanding this odd request, she nevertheless turned around to face the excited group of people. "I want everyone out," she ordered leaving no room for question. "Move along now. Can't you see he doesn't need you all crowding him?"

Glaring at the woman with mutiny in their eyes, everyone obeyed nonetheless. They wanted to talk to their newly arrived werewolf, find out where he had been and what he had been doing. But they could see that he was not well, and while they were curious to know why, it was obvious he needed his space for a moment. They could give him that much.

Harry remained where he was, not even helping poor Hestia Jones herd his curious relatives out. His eyes swept over Remus' body, appalled at what he saw. What had happened to Moony to put him in so much pain? The few areas of revealed skin showed bruises and scratches galore, and there was no doubt one would find the same beneath his robes. The boy was unable to look away though Remus had only spared him half a glance when he entered.

"Harry, dear," Molly said gently. "You too. You'll be able to see him later after I've taken a look at his injuries."

The werewolf offered no objection to this which was a small blow to Harry. He wasn't doing any harm; he hadn't even tried to crowd him. But if Remus wanted him gone, then he supposed he should obey.

_Pup_, the wolf whispered to Remus as the 16 year old walked towards the door. He took another breath of his scent, assuring himself that the attack yesterday hadn't harmed the boy in any way. He was still upset though, and there was no hint as to why.

_Yes, Pup_, he answered his insistent other half who seemed to think he needed reminding. _Lily and Prong's pup._

_Pup hurt_, the wolf noticed curiously. If anyone in his pack was hurt, it was his job to fix it. It was the way of things.

_Pup not hurt_, Remus denied. Harry was just fine; he did not need anyone mothering him. Least of all a paranoid werewolf like him. It was neither needed nor welcomed. The wolf needed to calm down; perhaps giving it more say in order to understand the other wolves was not such a good idea after all.

Mrs. Weasley was speaking again, breaking through his internal argument. He forced himself to focus on her words, using them to find a base on which to stand. Fortunately, the absence of everyone in the room helped him immeasurably. For the next day or so he would have to be more careful as his body readjusted itself. He couldn't allow himself to be affected just by entering a crowded room.

"I'm sorry, Molly, what was that?" he asked, looking up at her as he straightened his back slightly.

"Would you like me to contact Madam Pomfrey?" she suggested, unsure as to what was hurting him.

"Oh no," he smiled reassuringly. "I couldn't possibly bother her over something so trivial. I'll be fine." The poor woman had enough to worry about without him to add to the list. He wasn't a pup anymore; he could take care of himself.

"Are you sure? You don't look fine to me," she looked sternly down at him as though he were just another of her children while in fact she was only 6 years older than him.

"It's not as bad as it looks. The aftermath of full moons do not agree with me, that's all. Nothing a nap and some simple charms won't cure. I was just a little overwhelmed when I came in." He downplayed everything to the utmost of his ability. While the past two years did wonders toward her small prejudice of half-breeds, he knew that the less amount of reminders of his 'condition' the better. Remus understood that old fears died hard, and tried his best to act as human as possible for her sake. It certainly helped that all her children who had had him as a professor said nothing but praise about him.

Pursing her lips unconvinced, she did not argue with him. She had learned the hard way last year that while he was unfailingly polite, he was as stubborn as the worst of them and no amount of cajoling would move him. Indeed he did look better already, sipping carefully at his tea. Wiping her hands on her apron, she let her eyes wander around the room, a bit lost at what to do next.

"Are those eggs I smell?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts. She was most at ease when she was doing something, and he offered her that escape for comfort.

"Oh, yes of course!" she laughed, mentally berating herself for not offering any. He probably hadn't anything decent to eat in all the time he was gone if the way those robes hung off him were any indication. That evening she should make a large meal to compensate. "Would you like me to fetch you some, Remus? We have some sausage left too if you like."

"Yes, please. That would be wonderful."

The color gradually returned to his pale skin and he was no longer in so much pain. Molly caught him up on latest events as he ate, including each and every antic of her many children. He was glad to hear it all, even chuckling at one truly masterful prank delivered by the twins. They would have been true rivals of the Marauders had they been in school together. It would have been all the four of them could do to keep their title as Hogwarts biggest troublemakers. Perhaps one of these days he would even reveal his mischievous history to them to see what they would do. It was rather flattering to hear them speak so reverently about him and his friends right in front of him, not knowing that he was a Marauder himself.

There was a small silence after all the stories had been told. Finally the werewolf asked a question that had been plaguing him since he'd sorted out the different scents still hanging in the air. "Who are the three newcomers? I didn't get a good look at them when I came in." Actually, he didn't get any look at them, only their unpleasant scents. But she didn't need to know that. He needed to be human for her and humans did not identify people with their noses.

"Oh," Molly frowned at the thought. "Yesterday Harry had us bring the Dursleys when we rescued him from the Death Eaters. Not that I don't approve of saving them, but they are just so… so urgh!" She stood up and flicked her wand, sending the remaining dishes to the sink in a flurry.

Remus remembered briefly meeting Harry's extended family last spring and could agree wholeheartedly with the unsaid adjectives. No doubt they were trying everyone's patience as of late. "And Harry? How is he?" The question sprang out before he could stop himself, but he had to know. Why was he so upset at seeing Remus return?

"Honestly?" Molly sighed heavily, brown eyes downcast and helpless. "I don't know. He's been so tight-lipped with us lately. First that Cedric boy, then Sirius, and after yesterday with all those people… Remus, I just don't know anymore. I really don't. That boy's hurting, but if he ever talks about it with anyone, I never hear of it. I do know that Dumbledore and I are going to have a chat the next time he visits. Harry can't keep doing as he has been."

No he couldn't. But he had to and there wasn't anything Dumbledore, or anyone for that matter, could do to change that. He wished, not for the first time, that Sirius did not have to die. He still had so much good left to do in his life, so many wrongs left to right. Harry would have talked to him, he knew it. The boy would confide in the former prisoner where he would not confide in even Ron or Hermione. Their chemistry had been almost immediate, throwing nearly everything else to the wayside.

He saw the pain in Harry's eyes as he entered the kitchen and it was now that he finally understood it. It wasn't he who the boy wanted to enter. It wasn't this old werewolf he wanted to see safe and sound. Not that Harry held any ill will toward him, but Remus was not Sirius. And Harry wanted Sirius. The young wizard was disappointed that the man behind the door didn't have shaggy ebony hair and a ready grin. And he was probably disappointed in himself for even thinking that in the first place.

Only nodding in response to Mrs. Weasley, Remus excused himself to retire for the day. He needed a good long nap if his wounds were going to heal properly. And only after that would he be of any use to Harry and the Order. He would offer a sympathetic ear, but be sure not to overstep his boundaries. The last thing that boy needed was some old fool smothering him with worry.

The scents of the different people filled his head again as he made his way through the house. This time, however, he remained in control of himself and it did nothing more than tell him who was where. Most of the occupants of the house were in the living room waiting for him as expected. Harry was among them, as were his cousin, aunt, and uncle. The Dursleys, though, were probably only there for lack of anything else to do. They reeked of fear; perhaps they were too nervous to go off on their own, even in this house?

"I'm sorry," he smiled gently, holding up a hand to ward the concerned and curious away. His tired gray eyes were soft but firm, not allowing them to begin the grand inquisition just yet. "I'm not feeling very well and would like to lie down. Would someone mind waking me for supper if I'm not up already?"

Ginny agreed to the task, obviously disappointed that she and her brothers were not able to hear about his adventures. Everyone had been so concerned for their missing werewolf and now that he was home, he immediately retreated into his room. Surely this evening he would be well enough to tell them what he had been up to! The Weasley children had been especially taken with him as of late, finding him as gentle as they remembered from school, but with an unexpected sharp wit and tongue when the time called for it. Very few members of the Order paid them as much attention as he did and they respected him more for it.

Vernon Dursley eyed the newcomer with suspicion. He remembered this one; he remembered him well. The polite weirdo from the train station who had been one of the ones to threaten him should anything happen to their little freakish prince. While his words had been the softest and his words the gentlest, the danger behind them had been the most real; it didn't take a genius to figure that out. He stood between Remus and his family protectively, not trusting even the strange one's apparent frailty.

For his part, Remus fought down the urge to take up the large human's unspoken challenge. Stupid man, he should know better than to bait a wolf like that. Mr. Dursley smelled of defensive fear, why couldn't he just listen to the instincts his Muggle body felt and leave him be? Instead of addressing it, he just walked stiffly upstairs even as the wolf inside howled at him to take the challenge and assert dominance. It was tired of him being docile and wanted to prove that it was alpha material.

Harry watched this strange exchange between the two, not knowing any more than anyone else what was going on. All he knew was that for all their friendly letters and good teacher-student relationship, Remus had yet to acknowledge his existence. He'd done that much for Uncle Vernon! What was wrong? What had happened these past two weeks? Why would Remus not even look at him?

Making a hasty retreat, he followed the same path he'd gone down the previous night. Beyond the old paintings, passed the gargoyle doorknockers, and into the room with no windows.

**End Part Four**

**A/N:** I'm sorry it took so long for me to update. And unfortunately I have some more bad news. Well, good and bad news. Bad news: I am working on the Cape for 8 weeks starting June 26 with no access to a computer with which to post. Good news: As I will be teaching lil cherubs (aka demon children) I will be writing nearly non stop to keep my sanity using traditional ink and paper. So when I get back, I will either have a complete chapter or something pretty close to it. So if there is nothing else up before June 26, don't expect anything for about 2 months.

**A/N2:** As Nuwie and I were talking about this briefly, we came to the conclusion that Remus is a sweet doll, but who is an absolute ham, hence his larger role in this story that previously thought. The next chapter will feature the Dursleys more, but expect much werewolf fun as well. I apologize for not showing Tonks yet, but I do promise she will be in the next one.

**Trivia Time!**

The answer is indeed 42! Well done to SnorkackCatcher you little hitchhiker you ; )

New question: What movie inspired my doorknockers?

**Review Time!**

Nuwie: Mad? Most definitely. Ready to pull my hair out? Oh yeah. Having fun? You know it! I apologize for being naughty and I hang my head in shame. One page a day you said… now THAT is mad! The animal scenes were good? Yay! Like I mentioned earlier, I have little to no experience with animals other than my childhood obsession with Animal Planet (an animal channel on t.v.) Pat Indy on the head for me btw. If you have any animal tips, especially of the canine variety, they would be most welcome : ) The fish died actually sigh . Apparently my sister didn't know you actually had to FEED the thing. Oy! Lol, you'll see what's in the room, you'll see…

Fornax: See, I take care of them! Lol, one more chapter and you'll see, I promise this time.

SnorkackCatcher: Hm… why AU? I mean, I know it'll be AU once the next book comes out, but is there anything unrealistic about it? Glad to have met another hitchhiker! So long and thanks for all the fish!

Nandhp: Lol, thanks!

Shadowed Rains: Dark Lord? Me? stuffs black cloak under bed Noooo, why would you think that? ; ) Nothing wrong with a good tangent and I agree! We are all a bit evil, yes? After all, we love to torture our favs, right?

Hapollo: Thank you, I'm so glad you like it. Unfortunately, it's not very quick, but I hope you still approve!

Dweem-angel: I may rough him up a bit, but Rems is in good hands. Trust me! ; ) Thank you and I hope you enjoy this one too!


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